


Burning Like A Sun

by Lady_Wardlow



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Fever, Gen, Sick Character, Sickfic, Vomiting, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:02:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28686807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Wardlow/pseuds/Lady_Wardlow
Summary: The Doctor falls sick. She had taken care of all of them for so long, it was their turn to take care of her.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38
Collections: Thirsting for Thirteen Server Secret Santa 2020





	Burning Like A Sun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FictionPenned](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FictionPenned/gifts).



> This was the first ever fic exchange I've participated in, and though I really struggled with it, I did the best I could. I hope you like it!

Another wave of pain washes over her, flowing into her mouth as she gasps, filling her lungs until she's choking on it. 

Everything goes fuzzy, the voices of her Fam and the sounds of Ryan's games sound light-years away. Her vision goes darker and darker and she reaches a hand out desperately into the void, seeking something, anything-

A hand clasps hers.

"Hey, hey," a voice coos, distant but familiar.

"Don't faint on me, Theta." Theta. So it's him. Oh Koschei. "Are you hurt?"

"No, no-" she breaths, gasping for breath, her hand fanning at her face. She's so hot. Too hot. Burning. "I just. I need to sit down, please-"

He gently lowers her to the ground, his arm wrapped around her waist and a firm hand on her arm keeping her steady as he guides her to sit against him.

Now safe on the floor, she leans into him, laying her head against his chest as she sucks in deep lung-fulls of air, but it still feels like she's drowning.

She shudders as his cool hands make contact with her skin, pushing her sweat-drenched hair out of her face.

"You're burning up." He says, his voice still distant though the room has fallen quiet. "Can you stand?"

The way she looks up at him, slowly lifting her head off of his chest with an almost pained gasp, her eyes wet and tired, breaks his hearts in four. He takes it as a no.

"That's okay, love. May I carry you?"

Her eyes slide closed as she gives him a brief nod, immediately regretting the movement as it brings more tears to her eyes. Why does everything hurt?

* * *

When she next opens her eyes, she sees him again. The Master is standing in front of her, holding out his hand with a fond smile on his face.

She takes his hand without question, and runs with him. They're running through fields, just like when they were younger, on Gallifrey.

Gallifrey…

They are on Gallifrey, she realizes. Running through the fields of their home, getting as far away from the citadel as they could.

She's panting now, her breaths coming short and fast, she's too tired to keep going at this rate. Realizing she's slowed down, the Master turns around.

His eyes go wide and he stumbles back with a gasp, staring at something behind her.

She whips around and sees the citadel engulfed in flames higher than mountains, the dome shattering before her eyes. The fire looked like it was spreading fast, getting closer to them with every minute they waited, the fields burning in seconds.

Turning around she finds the fire right behind her, so close she can feel the heat against her face. She backs away, looking around for him, but he's nowhere. She can't see him.

"Koschei?!" She shouts, eyes darting around frantically in search of him.

Her further shouts go unheard as the fire approaches, surrounding her on all sides. The near blinding brightness gives way to darkness as she feels her body give out.

* * *

"Graham, can you get a washcloth for me, we need to lower her temperature." The Master asks, his voice deliberately clinical.

Graham simply nods, walking out of the medbay to the linen closet.

Yaz walks up to the Doctor's bed, staring down at her. Her skin was pale and sweaty, and burning to the touch. As she shifted in her sleep, her brows creased in unease. 

"What's wrong with her?" She asked, looking over to the Master.

"She's sick, running a dangerously high fever. Haven't found the cause quite yet, though." He said, never looking away from his monitor.

"Koschei? Koschei! Koschei please-" the Doctor shouts, her words slurred as she began thrashing against the bed, her eyes still closed. "Koschei?"

The frantic fear in the Doctor's voice broke the Master out of his trance as he stepped away from the monitor, taking her hand in his.

"I'm right here, Theta. I'm here." He says softly. 

It doesn't stop her thrashing, and she pulls her hand away from his, throwing her head back. A soft hand met the back of her head before she could hurt herself more. 

He pulls her away from the head of the bed, piling more pillows around the metal headboard and railings before laying her back down. She seemed to have gone limp in his arms.

"Doctor?" Yaz's voice sounds almost scared, her face pinched with worry.

With a gasp, the Doctor shoots up, gagging as she does so. Her entire body lurches forward as her stomach turned over. She can't help but gag as the heat engulfs her from the inside out. The coughing sends her retching and heaving, vomiting all over the blanket in front of her.

"I heard shouting, what's going on?" Graham asks, surveying the scene, some rags and a bowl of water in his hands.

He stares at her sickly form, her hair stuck to her face unforgivingly with sweat, the vomit and spit dripping from her chin. Her breaths are short and loud, her eyes hazy and filled with tears.

"Oh Doctor, here-" His heart breaks at the sight of the Doctor so sick.

He quickly places the bowl on the tray near the bed, handing the Master one of the rags and guiding the Doctor to lay back down. 

She lets herself fall back against the pillows, her entire body feeling like it was weighed down.

The Master takes the rag from Graham and quickly dunks it in the water, wringing it out before pressing it to the Doctor's clammy forehead.

She nearly sobs in relief as the cool fabric meets her burning skin, almost dousing the flames of her fever.

Graham takes another rag to gently wipe away the vomit from her mouth. "Yaz, go get some water, please."

Graham's cold hands felt like bliss against her skin and she sighed openly, too tired to care.

As Yaz comes back with the water, the Master helps the Doctor sit up, his strong arms holding her secure as he helps her drink.

She moaned with exhaustion as she was gently pulled into a sitting position, slow as to not make her sick again. The cool water felt refreshing against the heat raging through her body.

With a strangled gasp she leans back against him, coughs racking her body. "Kosch-" she rasps, looking up at him, tears in her eyes threatening to spill.

"Oh Theta, we're here." Taking the glass from her and sitting it down, he wraps his arms around her, careful not to jostle her too much. "We'll take care of you."


End file.
